


soldier, poet, king

by writing_addict



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Castlevania (Cartoon) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, BAMF Edward Elric, BAMF Ling Yao, BAMF Winry Rockbell, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, Magic-Users, Multi, OT3, One Shot, Vampires, and together they're the ot3, author's first (intense) fight scene, ed is trevor, ling is sypha, r-yed shippers dni, winry is alucard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28398204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: "My name is Edward Elric, of the House of Elric, and dying has never frightened me.""I am a Speaker and a scholar of magic. I serve no demon and I do no evil!""My mother...has to die. We three have the power to stop her. If we dare."...A sleeping soldier lies under East City. Legend says that they will awaken in a time of great disaster to save Amestris from ruin, and that they will be joined by a hunter, and a scholar...and that together, they will end the scourge of Dracula.If they can survive each other first, that is.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Ling Yao, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell/Ling Yao, Winry Rockbell/Ling Yao
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	soldier, poet, king

**Author's Note:**

> the most basic of basic titles, i know, shush
> 
> anyways this is literally just an edlingwin castlevania au ft. ed as trevor, ling as sypha, and winry as alucard! this was a fun little low-effort (medium-effort) thing i churned out while i was watching the show on my day off that's mostly a transcript of the trevor vs. alucard fight in the season 1 finale, so i hope you guys enjoy it! happy reading <3

Finding a coffin in the catacombs beneath Central was far from the plan. Ed had only wanted to get into the damn city, get a drink and some food, and keep heading away ‘til he crossed the border. Instead he’d found a Speaker magician, killed a cyclops, led an assault on the Night Creatures that came to slaughter the people of Central, and fell several stories deep into chambers with strange mechanical pieces and self-lighting torches, the Speaker standing beside him. And now he’d just tripped the coffin open.

“I didn’t do that,” he said when Ling shot him a sharp look, before gritting his teeth and bracing a hand against the handle of his whip as the coffin opened. A figure _floated_ out of its confines, a deceptively delicate hand pressed over the scar on her bare chest, white-gold hair twisting and flowing in some nonexistent breeze.

Ling’s eyes were wide when Ed dared to glance over at him, and he heard him whisper “ _The savior sleeps under Eastern.”_

This was no savior, though. Ed was certain of it. And as her eyes opened, blue as ice and cold as steel, he knew _exactly_ what she was.

_Vampire._

“Why are you here,” the woman said, the words sounding more like a command than a question. Her voice was soft, rich as velvet and cold as a winter frost. Ed couldn’t make out the details of her face beyond those hellish blue eyes, but he didn’t dare look away, even though his skin crawled at the sight of the fireless torches and bizarre metal contraptions slowly ticking. Every one of his instincts was screaming _predator, danger, monster, fight_ and the only reason he’d survived this long to begin with was by listening to those instincts.

Ling, apparently, had _not_ — something Ed had guessed from the moment he’d seen the man’s body petrified in stone in the chambers of the cyclops, from the second he’d demanded to go back down there and keep searching (from the instant he looked at him and called him _rude_ despite having nearly died from the cyclops)—and spread his arms wide, his eyes shining. “The legend of the sleeping soldier—the stories say the messiah sleeps under East City. The warrior who will save us from Dracula.”

Ed watched for a flicker of recognition, of wrath, of danger—nothing. Just stone-cold silence. Either this was an ancient warrior (which he doubted) or this vampire was well-practiced in hiding her emotions (which was likely). “And you,” she said in that same low, velvety voice—to him now, and _him_ alone. “Are _you_ in search of a mythical savior?”

“ _I_ fell down a hole into this little hellscape,” he snapped, and forced himself to say no more than that. House Elric hunted vampires, yes, but if this one was less inclined to kill them, it would be easier to kill _her_.

Ling shot him a _look_ — Ed didn’t know why, they had barely known each other a day, and yet he continued to look at him like he could read his mind and didn’t like what he saw (but then again, Ling was a Speaker magician. Who knew what he could do?)—and lifted his chin. “Dracula is abroad in Amestris. The night hordes are waging war upon humankind—an extermination. She is determined to wipe out every human life in these lands.”

A slow exhale, and those unholy blue eyes dimmed. “Is that what _you_ believe?”

“There’s no belief involved here,” Ed answered sharply, watching her float in that eerie, inhuman way. “Whether she’s out to kill every human or just cull a few million, Dracula’s unleashed her hordes in Amestris. That’s fact.” His eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

“No.”

“You’re asking,” Ed pressed, because it was becoming increasingly clear that this vampire was toying with them somehow and _fuck that_ , he did not lose his entire family (his lineage, his home, his _little brother_ ) to die down here to a vampire playing philosopher and toying with the hopes of a dying people, “if I believe you’re some mythical savior who can strike Dracula down. Fuck no.”

“Elric!” Ling hissed, indignant. Ed ignored him.

“I know what you are, monster.”

The woman _grinned_ , and he saw sharp needle teeth, white against red lips. “And what am I?”

His fingers tightened around the handle of his whip, and he snarled, “You’re a _vampire_.”

The woman lifted her head at last, revealing impossibly beautiful features, her eyes glowing like stars from a night sky in hell as her smile widened into a sweet baring of teeth. He saw Ling’s eyes widen in his peripheral, but didn’t bother (didn’t _risk_ ) drawing attention to his fear as the vampire focused in on him. “So I have to ask myself,” he went on, those blue eyes like blades all on their own, pinning him to the spot, “did we come here to wake the warrior who will defeat Dracula…or did we come here to wake Dracula herself?”

She straightened fully, her hand dropping to her side as she moves forward—without moving, somehow, floating in that eerie way that the strongest of vampires always did. “You call me Dracula,” she murmured, and Ed didn’t know whether she sounded amused by the idea or utterly nonplussed.

“I’ll call you anything if you’re going to flash your fangs like that.”

The woman tilted her head to the side, looking bored. “The Speaker—” a wave of her hand towards Ling, who bristled “—called you Elric. House of Elric?”

“Edward Elric,” he spat, glaring up at her. “Eldest son of the House of Elric.”

Her eyes flashed, that terrible beauty filled with crackling lightning as she halted her approach, the planes of her face illuminated by the eerie fireless lights. “The Elrics fought the creatures of the night, did they not?”

 _Fought the creatures of the night._ As if this vampire didn’t know, as if she wasn’t judging him for it, mocking him for it—for what had befallen his family, his world. “Say. What. You. Mean,” he gritted out, stalking toward her.

She drifted to the side, expression impassive. “The Elrics killed vampires,” she said, and in those words he heard a condemnation— _killed those like me. And where are you now, little Elric, all alone with no one but a Speaker to guard your back? What are you now?_

…Ed didn’t know, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her that. “Until the good people of Amestris decided they could get along fine without us and had us burned and hunted and scattered across the globe.”

The woman clicks her tongue, waving a hand lazily. “And now Dracula is carrying out an execution upon the human race. A delicious irony, in fact. Which is why I have to wonder…do you care, Elric?”

_Do I care?_

His mother was dead. His father, his brother…who knew where they were now. The home he’d grown up in was in shambles. His world had fallen apart, and all because the Church took it upon themselves to decide that the House of Elric carried too much _power_ — and that the way to remove it from them was to call their protectors black magicians and then blame them for each and every crisis.

Weeks ago, even days ago, after years of surviving on his own and looking for his family, Ed would have been happy to watch the world fall apart. He’d save who he could, sure, do a bit here and there, but all that really mattered was drink and food and not being the next to die. Amestris had killed his mother at the whim of the Church. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t ready to let them all burn for it.

And yet…

He was an Elric. He hunted monsters.

No—no, that wasn’t it.

He stood up for the people. The innocent—the children who hadn’t known about Dracula’s husband, stoned and burned to death. The people just trying to survive to the next day. Even those duped by the corruption of the Church were just people trying to live, to be safe in a world that had turned on them. And it was Ed’s job to protect them _all_ , and he’d do it with a fucking _smile_.

“Honestly? I didn’t. Now, though… _yes_.” He lifted his chin, staring her down. “It’s time to end it.”

Ling’s eyes were shining when he turned back to him, bright and warm. Ed wished he could pretend that it didn’t make some part of him soften, didn’t make him feel warmer, like there was still someone left worth fighting for. He was about to dash all his hopes anyways. “And I think I’m going to have to do it by killing you.”

Predictably, that bright look faded and Ling stepped forward. “Edward, _no_. She’s the one we’ve been waiting for, she _has_ to be!”

“No, she’s not,” he snapped. “She’s a vampire, and she hasn’t been down here for hundreds of years. _Have_ you, bloodsucker?”

“I don’t think I like your tone.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think about my tone. You’re not some prophesized Messiah. This place might be old, but it’s still working. It hasn’t been abandoned, it’s alive.” He waved a hand towards Ling. “So go on, vampire. Tell him _exactly_ how long you’ve been waiting down here.”

The woman’s eyes sharpened—a warning. But she turned to Ling anyway, tilting her head to the side. “What is the year of your Lord?”

Ling eyed her warily—good. That meant he wasn’t completely taken by the legend, even if he believed in it. “1476,” he said quietly.

“That makes it a year, then.”

 _A year_. Hardly an ancient fucking warrior, then. “It’s been a year since the night hordes were unleashed and Dracula began her little crusade,” Ed pointed out, baring his teeth at her. He wasn’t a vampire, but he could still fucking _bite_. “And on top of that, what kind of savior sleeps in a coffin guarded by mechanical death traps and deadly monsters to buy herself an uninterrupted nap?”

“My defenses were not for you, I assure you—”

“You could have told your defenses that.” Before they’d fallen about twenty stories and nearly died on giant gears.

“They are machines, nothing more,” the woman said dismissively. “They weren’t meant to guard me from you, and besides, you survived, didn’t you?” Her eyes narrowed, vicious and cruel. “I asked you a question. Do you care?”

Ed bit back a snarl, turning toward the vampire as she floated, her gaze filled with contempt and condemnation. “I care about doing my family’s work. I care about saving human lives. I care about finding my _brother_.” He lifted his shoulder in a lazy shrug even as metal fingers curled around his whip. “Am I going to have to kill you?”

The woman grinned, revealing sharp needle-fangs as those ice-blue eyes light up with unholy glee. “Do you think you _can_ , little human? If you’re really an Elric and not a runt running around in a family crest, you might be able to.”

“Don’t you fucking dare call me small, bloodsucker—”

“Hit a sore point, have I?” she _crooned_ , and his fingers twitched on the hilt of his weapon as she lifted a hand—and from the shadows of the coffin, a long, deadly sword flew to her hand. She twirled it expertly, before grinning savagely at him. “Let’s see if you can put a scratch on me, Elric.”

“Ed, don’t do this!” The words come from Ling, clear and desperate—Ling, who he’d known for all of a few days, who still somehow believes in prophecy and light and goodness in this world gone to hell. It’d be admirable if it wasn’t so naive. “We need her!”

“Tell your floating vampire Jesus that,” he snapped, unfurling the whip with a lash of the cord. “She’s the one pulling the strings here—“

“Nothing but insults, aren’t you?” the vampire goaded. “You tired little—”

Ed’s whip lashed out, slamming her to the ground. The woman went skidding across the floor, sharp nails curving like claws into the marble, before those inhuman eyes fixed on him and she _hissed_.

Ed bared his teeth right back, grinning. _“Shut up.”_

The vampire leapt, fangs bared in a wicked smile, sword twisting and curling like it was made of quicksilver rather than hardened steel. Her hand didn’t so much as touch the blade—bound to her, no doubt, by some sort of familiar magic. He lashed the whip again, over and over, weaving a cage for himself. Protection from her strikes, yes…but also against her. A single strike from a consecrated whip might not be able to take a high-ranking vampire down, but he sure as hell would make her hurt.

“Elric, this isn’t what we’re supposed to do!” Ling shouted—from somewhere behind him, Ed didn’t know. He didn’t blame him for not using his magic, for trusting the legends. It was what he’d been raised to do. Ed, though…Ed had been raised to kill vampires.

To kill Dracula.

“I told you, Ling, Dracula’s castle can appear anywhere,” he snarled out, weaving the whip again to block the sword as it dives for him again, ducking under a swipe from hands that might as well be clawed with how sharp and strong she is. “And _this_ is what it looks like— _try that again, you bitch_ — on the inside.”

Move—strike—move— strike. “And you know what Dracula looks like, do you?” she taunted, barely out of breath.

Ed hated her all the more for it. “Nobody knows what fucking Dracula looks like. You have fangs, and you sleep in a _fucking coffin._ ” His hand swung back, before he stepped forward with a roar and slashed down. That cage of protection and power unraveled, zeroing in on her, going for the throat—

She tilted her head to the side, avoiding it by the skin of her teeth, and leapt up— and as she leapt, Ed slashed it up, grinning at the choked-off cry she let out as he struck her—but just like that, she was on her feet again, teeth bared and sword at the ready, and—

She _grabbed the whip_. Grabbed it, lashing it around her sword, and _pulled;_ Ed pulled back with a growl, but she had the strength of the damned and it was wrenched out of his grip, sent flying across the room. Her eyes glinted at him—a challenge and a dare.

Fucker wanted to die by a blade, then?

 _Fine_.

He met her strike for strike, his shortsword keeping up with the inhumanly powerful movements of her blade; she was stronger, and faster, but Ed had been training with all manner of blades since he could walk. Strike for stroke. Blow for blow—she was taller than him, and he caught her next slash on the edge of his blade, gritting his teeth as he blocked her and pressed it forward. If he moved, he needed time to regroup before she could cut him down again, but she was a vampire. They could move with unholy speed. And yet—

His knee came up, jamming into her solar plexus. A practiced move, a damning one. Sure to knock the wind out of anyone—

“Please. This isn’t a bar fight.” Her nose wrinkled, as if she was disgusted. “Have some class.”

Unless you were a creature who didn’t need to breathe. Ed didn’t bother wasting time to curse his foolishness, slamming his forehead into hers and grinding his teeth against the pain as she cried out and stumbled backwards—before howling as her fist slammed into his ribs, that unmatched strength sending him flying off the dais where her coffin lay and onto the floor. Definitely a few fractures at the very least—

She flew _down_ , so fast he could barely fucking see her, that longsword clashing with his shorter one over and over and over. His arms burned, but he didn’t dare stop, didn’t listen to anything but the adrenaline pumping through his veins like lightning turned into liquid. It felt better than the sweet, slow buzz of the drink—better than anything.

If he died, it’d be fighting.

A good death.

He slashed _up_ as her sword slammed down, casting it out of her hand as it raked through her chest and made her roar with pain—but not enough to keep his own sword from breaking, the blade flying into pieces as she punched him again, sending him skidding back against the wall.

He’d…lost, he realized dazedly as fingers curled into his hair and she leaned over him, blue eyes blazing as she bared her fangs with a wicked hiss. Blonde hair fell in curtains, blocking off the rest of the world as she breathed, “Do you have a god to put a last prayer to, Elric?”

A last prayer…

Oh, yes, he had one.

“Dear God,” he gasped, and laughed. He didn’t believe in a god anymore, but he’d humor her. A last gift, before “—please don’t let the vampire’s guts _ruin_ my good tunic.”

And he pressed his knife into her stomach in warning, grinning wildly up at her.

She let out a gasp of pain, before hissing quietly, more animal than mortal being. “I can still rip your throat out.”

“Oh, you _can_ ,” he agreed, still grinning. “But it won’t stop me staking you.” The pain was starting to creep in through the adrenaline now, and he hid a grimace, baring his teeth gleefully. “See, I don’t care if I die, bloodsucker. _Killing you_ is the point here. Living through it? That’s just a luxury.”

The vampire—

Laughed, her fangs still bright against her mouth—laughed, until a hiss of flame fell over them. Ed froze, staring up over the vampire’s shoulder at Ling. There was no trace of that hope and light in the Speaker’s expression—just cold ruthlessness. “I will incinerate you before your fangs touch that man’s throat.”

There was a low hum from the vampire, who seemed…oddly calm, despite the threat of death by flame or knife. “I thought I was your legendary savior.”

“Savior or not, I owe him a life-debt for what he did for my people. Rude _bastard_ of a hunter or not, I refuse to let a vampire kill him over some imagined slight.” Brown eyes hardened, wrath burning in them like the flames between his fingers. “Besides, we share a goal—to stand up for the people.”

The vampire blinked slowly, before closing her eyes—and pulling away. “Good,” she said softly. “A vampire hunter and a magician. You’ll do.” She stood, stepping back, and _smiled_. A genuine smile, not a wicked, cruel grin. “My name is Winry—Winry Rockbell, known to the Amestrians as Alucard. And I believe you know my mother Sara Rockbell…as Dracula.”

_Dracula’s…daughter._

_Oh my fucking God._

“I’ve been here for a year, healing the wounds my mother dealt when I tried to stop her war,” Winry said quietly, pressing a hand to the twisting scar on her chest as the wounds from their fight sealed up. _Must have been some family squabble if she’s got a scar like that on an immortal body._

“You are the sleeping soldier,” Ling breathed, his eyes widening as the fire went out. Ed sat up, wincing as Winry padded over to her… _coffin_ , taking a shirt and a long, fitted black coat with gold fastenings out of a compartment and slipping them on slowly. Ed recognized the movements, the wariness, the way she watched for the old wound to flare up. _Definitely more than a squabble...or a vampire deciding to be altruistic on a whim_. “The story was true.”

“I’m aware that the Speakers consider it more of a prophecy than a story,” Winry murmured, sounding…amused. “Do you know the full story?”

 _The full—what?_ Ed’s confusion only grew as Ling’s face reddened and he looked away with a mumbled, “Yes.” As if noticing his confusion, the Speaker fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, before explaining, “The full story says that the soldier will be meant by a hunter and a scholar.”

 _A hunter and a scholar_ … shit. _I am a Speaker and a scholar of magic_ , Ling had said to him before they fought the night hordes together. _My family hunted fucking vampires,_ he’d reminded the town, before showing them who their false priest really was.

And now they have the soldier. The daughter of _Dracula_. “No one told me that bit,” he muttered.

“Grandfather believed you wouldn’t stay if you knew.”

Well…that was fair. He would have called them insane. But this…

This made sense. Much as he hated to admit it. “I hate Speakers,” he grumbled instead of answering properly, getting to his feet and dodging Ling’s punch to the shoulder. “What happens now, _Alucard_?”

Winry glanced over at him, her blade rising from the ground and sliding into the scabbard as she padded toward them. “Now?” she said quietly. “Now, we go to kill my mother.”

Her eyes hardened, blue flaring up like death itself come to call.

“Now, we go to war.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this one-shot! i'm unlikely to continue it, but if i did it'd likely just be more one-shots of my favorite scenes and things like that. lmk if you'd be interested in something like that, leave a comment and/or a kudos if you enjoyed reading it, and i'll see you next time! happy holidays <3


End file.
